


After the Rainy Day

by TuckerInLaw



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Cold, Cuddle, Cuddling, Domestic, F/M, Fluff, Humour, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, kiss
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-05-30 02:04:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15086654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TuckerInLaw/pseuds/TuckerInLaw
Summary: Clara and the Doctor save the day again, but in the end Clara catches a cold. The Doctor nurses her until she gets better, unveiling in the process a spark between them. (Somewhere between s8 episodes)





	1. Chapter 1

The rain was pouring down on nine-floor pagodas, making a strange almost melodic sound as the water hit their rounded roofs, swirled in many small holes only to fall down and hit the other one down below. It was already evening and little lights were turned on, but still illuminated streets only dimly. Two strangers out of this world were looking for their vehicle or some place to wait till the rain stopped, they were soaked through the bones, but not an inch seemed dry enough for them.

“Their roofs don’t make sense,” Clara was shaking from cold, clenching for the Doctor’s wet sleeve for her dear life. “These people don’t make sense.”

“No, Clara,” the Doctor winced as a drop fell from a hole and hit his nose. “They don’t. But the music!” He smiled almost childishly, looking up to the sky, his ears twitching a bit to catch every note of it.

Clara had nothing against the music created by the rain. It was cheerful, it promised a sunny day for tomorrow, sounding like a childish cartoon tune played on xylophone. It easily stuck in her head, probably for a whole week.

But the thing was she was exhausted. People living here had been about to be wiped out by a mere accident, so it meant a lot of running and screaming and arguing with the Doctor, even yelling at him, and trying not to be killed; meanwhile these people had known nothing about what possibly could have happened to their peaceful place. Even right now, when the Doctor and she had been looking for the TARDIS, hungry and thirsty, injured and cold, they were about to get asleep. She envied them. Her heavy eyes were half closed, and that was the other reason she pierced into the Doctor’s arm - it was a safe beacon back to her home.

“It’s not long now,” the Doctor said gently, feeling her tiredness through his sleeve. Seeing her shaking made his heart sank. He felt obliged to do something, perhaps to give her a coat, but then he’d be colder. He didn’t want to catch a cold, he’s unbearable when he’s all snotty.

“I’m tired,” Clara snuffled.

The Doctor heaved a long sigh, “Me too.”

She gave him a compassionate glance he didn’t miss but tried to avoid. He didn’t need one, in fact he wasn’t that tired as he looked, no, not a bit, not a single bit. He mustn’t have told her that, now she must be feeling all caring and sympathetic, she’ll get all fussy when they get back to the TARDIS.

Clara sneezed in the sleeve of her light jacket which was absolutely ruined and was no good protection from the rain. Great, the Doctor sighed, she caught a cold after all. That was all the gratitude she could have gotten from the planet they’d just saved.

She felt the Doctor’s hand wriggling out of hers, and when she looked back at him to see what he was doing she saw a stretched out coat.

“Take it,” when she didn’t, too baffled to speak, the Doctor put it on her shoulders.

“But you?” Clara wanted to say something but he interrupted.

“Will be fine. Time Lord superpowers, remember?” he grumbled.

“There’s no point in catching a cold together, Doctor.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” he snapped sharply. Another drop of water hit him, and he made a face.

* * *

The TARDIS welcomed them with a warm breeze, drying their soaked bones as Clara limped on the railing and the Doctor hit the space-time rotor with a bit of extra force. Clara watched him with squeezed eyes from where she was standing near the door. His vest was ruined, white shirt gave away his skin, short grey hair plastered on his head. She believed him when he had said he was tired because he looked like it. But instead of collapsing in a jump-seat, he was heading back to her.

“I’ll just go and sleep it all off, okay?” Clara moaned. She wasn’t sure she could do anything in her state.

“After bath and eating something, yes.” He pulled off his coat from her and hanged it on the railing.

“Is it an order, mom?” she teased him. For the answer, he gave her a look that could mean god knows how many things, “You know, I’m not a child. I can manage on my own.”

“I’m just saying that it’s not nice of you to lay down with a cold when I have a whole week planned for us. I’m also saying you need to try your best to recover quicker.” He tried to look angry but Clara could see through his veil – he was worried.

“Well don’t you worry. I’m not going anywhere till we try out all what you have,” she winked at him.

* * *

The Doctor was in the kitchen, wearing a fresh T-shirt and plain trousers, making a hot cocoa cup for Clara. He was thinking about what she had said an hour ago and knew everything was ruined. She had only a week-off at school, and having a time machine didn’t mean her biological clock was stopped. No matter how tempting her words sounded to his ears, _just close your eyes, shut down the voice of your conscience and let them have fun-time for once_ , they shouldn’t trespass the _given_ time. Even an extra day spent with him could confuse her and her colleagues at work, and, the Doctor closed his eyes and let a sigh, there’d been already too many of these extra days.

Well, if they couldn’t do it his way, maybe they should try something peaceful on the board of the TARDIS. He didn’t exactly fancy the idea, but they still had this week, a whole six days left, and all of them belonged to them. That’s what at least she had promised him sixteen hours ago. And he wished she got well tomorrow.

“Feel any better?” The Doctor asked.

She didn’t say anything, and the Doctor used the moment to suppress his clever smile.

“How did you know I was here?” He didn’t need to look around to know she was impressed.

“Well, if you had read some books about Time Lord superior biology you would have known that my back of the neck is very sensitive for any fluctuation in the 4th dimension.” He tried to sound nonchalant, stirring the drink.

The Doctor waited for any reaction from Clara but there was none. In a moment, he felt her gentle hand touching his nape, carefully, as if it was the most delicate instrument. Not a reaction he waited for.

“What are you doing?” The Doctor felt as his whole body short-circuited just like every time she touched him without warning.

“Checking your superior biology,” she said, scratching the nape a bit. “Cause everything you’ve just said sounded like a big white lie.”

“Me? Lying? Never.” The Doctor turned around and gave her the cup.

Then, he saw that she saw it, and couldn’t hide a big thin smile from her.

“You saw me in a kettle reflection!” She exclaimed as the realisation dawned on her. “O-o-oh, that’s clever!” She hid her pride smirk behind the cocoa cup. It wasn’t for long as she put the cup aside and made several rough coughs.

“Seriously, how do you feel, Clara?” He turned on a worried look momentously.

“Terrible,” she shrugged. Her little nose was in a drastic state and she was hardly stable on her feet. Her skin appeared milky white colour, her eyes impended to shut. She didn’t look well enough to recover by tomorrow, screw the dinner too, all she needed was sleeping. As the Doctor realised that with a pity, he silently nodded.  
“I’m sorry that a couple of our days is ruined. I know how you take our trips seriously. You must have planned every minute.” She sneezed again, hiding her nose in pajama sleeve.

“Actually, yes, I have.” The Doctor said trying not to blurt out his irritation. Seriously, these humans with their weak immune system just couldn’t stay healthy for a week! Then, he got an idea. “But you can make it up to me.”

She looked at him in disbelief, her eyes staring at him wide-open. “How?” That easy, the Doctor chuckled in his head. She was predictable after all.

_No matter how you feel, don’t go home just yet. Stay._

“Go to bed and rest,” he said instead, clearing his throat nervously. “That’s the best you can do for me.” Then, he shrugged awkwardly.

Clara gave him a tired smile. That had been wise to say apparently. “How you didn’t catch a cold – I don’t get it.”

“Time Lord superior biology.”

“Ah, yes. Sorry, how could I have forgotten it.”

“Indeed.” The Doctor nudged her to the kitchen exit impatiently. “C’mon.”

They were slightly surprised to see Clara’s bedroom not so far away from the kitchen. The Doctor silently thanked his machine for such friendly consideration, despite what Clara used to say in her healthier state.

“I could have gone to bedroom on my own, you know.” Clara chuckled.

“I…” the Doctor quickly came up with an excuse, “needed to be sure you won’t stumble.”

“Well, thank you very much.”

“You’re welcome.” He averted his eyes from her and gulped. This was awkward, this was wrong, this… was laughable. He clearly didn’t have a one reason to lead her to her own bedroom, no, actually, there was one reason, he wanted to see her one more time before she’s gone for 9 hours, not like he would tell that her anytime.

And what was that feeling? It was all over him, a tinkle, light warm, as if his body became numb in one second and his brains waved on a sea of dreams and thoughts. He felt dizziness, he felt vulnerable. He grasped on to the wall to keep himself steady.

“Hullo? Doctor, is everything alright?” Clara was asking him like from the bottom of well.

She looked worried. Her eyes were big and watery, her mouth opened just a bit and there was a little knot between her smooth eyebrows. Why did she look worried? Had he done or said something wrong?

“Hey, why wouldn’t you go with me?” She offered all of a sudden.

“Why?”

“To make sure I won’t stumble in my sleep.”

_She… stumble… in her sleep. Wait, wot?_

“Is that a thing?” he questioned.

“Sometimes.”

“You don’t make sense.”

“Says who?”

“Yeah, you got me there.” He suddenly realised what it was that he felt. And maybe that’s why they both didn’t make any sense now. It was tiredness. And she was inviting him to share it together. Oh! No, wait, that’s wrong, that’s…

“C’mon,” she held his wrist firmly before he could argue more and dragged inside her dark bedroom.

Surprisingly, he couldn’t adjust his sight. But he could feel that Clara made him sit on the bed, her bed, and he felt most uncomfortably. What was on her mind right now, he wondered. Because whatever it was he was already totally against it.

“Clara…” he gave her a warning note when she got herself into the bed. “What are we doing?”

“I’m trying to get better.” She sneezed in her pillow. “You’re doing the same.”

“But I’m okay.”

“You’re tired.”

“I’m still okay.”

“You being okay with being tired doesn’t make me being okay with you being tired. Admit it, even for your _Time Lord superior biology_ the day was rather tough.”

“I didn’t understand a thing of what you’ve just said.” He jumped to get up but Clara pulled him down.

“I know what you’re going to do right now.”

“Really?”

“Yes. You’ll go to the library to read something, or to the console room to break and then fix something, or you’ll play by rules in Grand Theft Auto and then moan to me that you were killed again. The point is, you won’t go to sleep your weariness off.”

“So what if I won’t?”

“If I got better tomorrow you wouldn’t be ready for an adventure.”

“Ah…” He said a bit softer. She knew which string exactly needed to be pulled to make him do what she needed.

With no other words, he joined her in the bed.

“I promise I won’t hug nor touch you,” she said, doing exactly the opposite all the night.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you read this chapter there's something that has been nagging my mind since the Mummy on the Orient Express.   
> No, not I-love-you part.  
> The part after.  
> When the Doctor and Clara so happily hit together simultaneously levers.  
> Clara hit the throttle DOWN.  
> And that's what makes me wonder... what happened next?  
> Because every time the Doctor starts the TARDIS up he turns that throttle UP. You can see that in every episode, the Caretaker is the best episode for noticing it (the scene when the Doctor goes around the console, basically shows off before invisible Danny).   
> So I assumed there was a catastrophe. I hope no one minds.   
> (probably I will write about it somewhere in the near future)  
> Anyway, enjoy the fic!

“Good morning, Doctor,” Clara scratched his skull with short hairs as she noticed the change in his breathing.

The Doctor opened his eyes a bit, his surroundings blurry, and someone was in his bed and was petting his head. Then, the memory from yesterday caught with him.

Clara smirked as he groaned into the pillow trying to shoo her away with his hand.

“You promised not to touch me. Does cocooning me for the whole night sounds for you like not touching?” He asked, the side of his mouth muffled by the pillow, and cast her unreadable look which made her smile weakly.

“Sorry, guilty. I promise to never do that again.” She might have put her hand on her chest, he still didn’t believe her.

“You’re such a liar, miss Oswald,” he clacked with his tongue and resisted the urge to hit her with a pillow to make her stop smirking again. He needn’t bother, very soon she was doubled with a harsh cough. “How do you feel, anyway?”

“I feel like I’m dying. And I’ve got a temperature, I remember being cold and hot at night.”

She didn’t look like dying, though she really looked quite bad and weak. She was wrapped into several blankets that she must have taken at night. Her eyes were half-closed, and she looked so tiny and vulnerable behind the blanket. The Doctor felt guilty, he should have given his coat to her earlier.

“Ah. I see…” _There won’t be any adventures in a couple of days._

“I’m really sorry. Maybe you should give me a lift back home. I’ve got something for cold there.”

The Doctor became very very still.

“I’ve got something for cold too,” he said, making sure his voice was clear and strong.

“No, really, Doctor; I’ll be fine on my own.” She was getting up when he caught her hand and made her lay back.

“Don’t be stupid. Of course, you won’t! I’m not letting you go in a state like this.”

“Are you trying to say that _you_ will nurse me?” She almost laughed again if it wasn’t for a cough.

“I don’t see any reason why not. You nursed me several times.”

“I’m me, but you’re… well, you. You don’t do nurse.”

He rolled his eyes at that. “For someone who is guilty of catching a cold, you don’t do much to start getting better. I’m **r** _-really_ disappointed.”

The Doctor got out of the bed and made the way to the door. When he heard blankets shuffled, he said,

“If you try to leave this bed I’m going to handcuff you to the bedpost.”

He was mid-outside the room, just one more step, when he got the reply. “I always knew you were kinky. Now I’ve got a proof.”

If Clara could have seen his face she would see it turning absolutely red.

“Aye, shut up!”

“Or what? You’ll gag me?”

He left the room in a hurry before things got even weirder.

* * *

Clara was drifting back into a sweet embrace of dreamland. She could hear an echo of her heartbeat in the pillow, and it was like a lullaby for her ear. Things became peaceful and quiet again, just what she needed in her state.

Then the Doctor returned with a banging hospital trolley.

She cast a nervous look at him. “Oh god, you’re actually doing this.”

“Clara,” he gave her a warning tone. He sat on the mattress, and it gave her a better look at what was in the trolley: several bottles of water, some medicine, three boxes of tissues, one box of wetnaps, two books, Rubik’s cube, two magazines, one of which had shirtless Freddie Mercury on the cover, two toasts, cookies and four cups of tea.

“Danny would never believe this when I tell him,” Clara muttered.

“Yeah, we’ve heard about that man a lot nowadays,” the Doctor grumbled. He was making an order out of the chaos on the trolley, basically putting everything on the other side of it but one object per hand. She could see he was angry, but why?

“I’ve never thought you’d be jealous.” Clara thought it must be it.

“Me? Jealous? Why? Does he have a time machine, Universe on his fingertips and a masculine body?”

_He… a masculine body. Wait, wot?_

“He doesn’t have such an enormous ego!” She lightly hit him on the top of his head but smiled when he gave her bewildered glare. Now she knew it was about Danny.

“Right! Doctor’s order. Basically, the usual. You take your medicine, you drink, you think about something nice when your nose running. You sleep. You call me only when it’s something important.”

“If I get bored, is that a worthy reason to call you?”

“Yes,” he said but made sure he was out of the room before giving that answer. She chuckled lightly, made herself sit and looked at the trolley again. Sighed. The Doctor was such a bad nurse after all.

“Forgot the important part. What a surprise, Doctor.”

* * *

What was he doing?

The Doctor banged lightly his head against the wall four metres away from Clara’s room.

He can’t do a nursery, Clara was right, he’s awful at that, and he just doesn’t do that. Any other day he would have sent his companion away and pop in their lives a week ahead when they’re back on normal. And she had offered him sending her away and just do what he’d been always doing.

But that was Clara, not just a companion, his teacher, his carer and his… No, that wasn’t about her. Not at all.

No.

The Doctor headed to the console room.

Then what was it if not her?

A guilt, probably. It was his fault that she’d got cold, he hadn’t given her his coat.

No, that wasn’t it.

Then it was a decision made in a hurry.

Nah, hogwash, it hadn’t been made in any hurry. And what about a _masculine body_? God knows Clara had heard that loud and clear.

Finally he approached the console, entered some coordinates, set the slow speed and pulled the space-time lever. With a take-off growl, the TARDIS set its course to a distant planet. Or maybe not a planet. He really didn’t know what he had just entered.

By a mere accident, his eyes ran to the second floor to the place where Clara, talking to her PE, had stood once in a golden short dress, short enough to show enough and let imagination draw next curves. She seemed so happy then, dancing down the steps towards him, all shiny and energised when her idiot boyfriend blessed her with the permission to continue their adventures through time and space. Her smile… had she ever smiled like that day? Had she ever smiled like that when he showed her wonders? Nah, PE had won that round again. And when she’d been just inches away from him he remembered ‘I love you’ reverberating in his chest and it was all lost again.

Why would his eyes run even there? It’s very stupid of them.

Clara’s not in love with him, he should stop that, it was very wrong, she had a boyfriend, she–

“What are you doing?”

He jumped in a startle, Clara crawled to him really quietly.

“Why’re you looking at me like I’m a ghost?” She asked, turning her inspection mode on him.

The Doctor awkwardly scratched the bridge of his nose. “I’ve just recalled how you almost crashed my TARDIS.” Well, it wasn’t a lie, technically he had recalled just that.

“Ah. That was a month ago, strictly after Orient Express. Why, is there a malfunction?”

_A one you’d never believe._

“No. Just don’t touch anything on emotions ever again. Why are you here?” He examined her quickly, she looked normal apart from being ill.

“To say that you didn’t tell me what medicine I should take. The TARDIS showed me, though. And said that you need me.”

The Doctor nervously glanced back at the column. What game she thought she was playing doing that?! “I don’t need anything.”

“Are you sure?” Clara got closer as if she wanted to peer into every wrinkle on his face.

“Of course I’m sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know.” She gave him a light shrug. “It’s just you didn’t sound sure. By the way, you know that one of the pills you gave me is a sleeping pill?”

“Yeah?”

“I think it starts to kicking in.” She sneezed in a tissue.

“Oh.”

“I know what you’ll say.”

“What?”

“I so told you not to leave the bed.”

Her eyes were half-closed when the Doctor grabbed her shoulders and shook violently. “Hey! Don’t you dare! You need to go to your bedroom, now!”

“Can’t you help me? You’re supposed to nurse me.”

“I won’t carry you!” He almost squeaked. “You’re too heavy, and you didn’t carry me last time I broke my toe!”

“I don’t think you have much of a choice, sorry.” She was falling into his chest, and for a second, just a second, the Doctor considered moving from her way and letting her fall. But he didn’t and caught Clara in his embrace.

It was like an awkward hug, a hug that no one had wanted but still, there they were, and the Doctor didn’t move lest Clara slipped down to the floor.

Her hair smelled like a watermelon shampoo.

Great.

“I hate you,” he told no one in particular.

“I hate _you_ ,” he made sure that no one heard him again.

Damn her, she wasn’t pretending. That was quite a good sedative.

“Hope it’s as good as the rest of the pills I gave you.” The Doctor shifted her on his shoulder but thought it was a bad idea when, after taking two steps, he’d nearly dropped her.

“I’m not a young dashing boy anymore, Clara. You can’t just knock out on me.” He tried to carry her bride-style but his back gave him a firm no in reply. He ignored it, thankfully he had a great experience in ignoring many things, till he made it back to her bedroom.

It was the longest way back to her bedroom.

* * *

His back hurt as hell. He had probably strained several muscles while carrying her. He was lying on the other side of her bed in search of the best position for him. He didn’t give a damn it was her bed. Gone was a shy tired man, now there was a man with a hurt back. And Clara really would not like this version of him, ‘cause he had found handcuffs special for her.

He tried to lay on his side and moaned in pain. Any position hurt him.

“Doctor?” He heard Clara calling for him. It was almost indistinguishable but thanks to his sensitive ears he heard her.

“Don’t you ever dare not listening to me,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

But she didn’t say anything.

When he found a bravery to roll over, he found her eyes were closed. Oh? Oh! She was calling him in her sleep! She wasn’t even aware of it!

“Hey… don’t,” her mouth puffed those two words, making his hearts sink.

It sounded like a nightmare a bit. He didn’t like it.

Then she called for him again, and, by her intonation, he knew for sure it was a nightmare.

He rolled back to his side, closed his eyes and tried to ignore it.

He could stop it, just one zip through the tip of his finger right into her subconscious and she’d have a nice dream about ponies or whatever she would want. She was having a cold, she was already suffering, he didn’t want her to be upset even more. But it also meant he might accidentally see something private.

His eyes darted open.

But he was the Doctor! He didn’t have an idea of privacy, Clara had told him that so many times! It would be a peek for good.

With that thought, before he could change his mind again, he touched her right temple with his middle-finger.


End file.
